Pride, Prejudice, and Push-Up Bras

by Mary Strand

  In the tiny alcove off the kitchen, Bill started to speak despite the wads of roast beef stuffed in his mouth. He swallowed hard, but not everything, and garbled half his words. “Isn’t this place great?”

  “Sure.” Living in Fargo in a musty attic with Wild Bill in the basement wasn’t my idea of a good time, but it was Rachel’s life, not mine. Watching Bill eat and talk, though, made me want to barf.

  As I watched in horror, Bill took another mouthful. “Mrs. Parks is so great to Rachel and me. Isn’t that right, babe?”

  Babe? Gag me.

  Rachel looked at her plate as she nodded. Apparently, she’d seen Bill eat often enough to know better than to look at him. “She’s, um, very attentive.”

  “Totally.” Bill stabbed his fork in the air to emphasize his point, and a chunk of roast beef flew across the table and hit the wall.

  After dinner, Rachel and I sneaked up to the attic the first chance we got, claiming to be tired. Both of us, at the same moment.

  I don’t think Wild Bill even noticed.

  I went to bed early and woke up to more gray skies. Luckily, I brought my textbooks with me. I’d have plenty of time to study, but why I had to drive all the way to Fargo to study, I’ll never know.

  After lunch, I wanted to walk, and no one offered to go along. No surprise. Rachel didn’t have an athletic bone in her body, and Wild Bill would be wheezing within a block—which, come to think of it, might cut down on his chatter. I breathed a sigh of relief as I laced up my running shoes.

  Before I could slip out the door, though, I heard a sudden uproar. Good God. An accident? A heart attack? I raced downstairs, my own heart thumping in my chest.

  As I reached the foot of the stairs, Bill shouted that Mrs. Parks was home, then flung himself out the door. Whatever. Unless Zac Efron or even Liam Hemsworth was at the door—okay, maybe not Liam Hemsworth; after Justin, I had to rethink that one—I didn’t see the point in rushing.

  I strolled to the living-room window and, standing by the drapes, peeked out. All I saw was a gray Rolls Royce with a tiny creature behind the wheel, barely able to see over it.

  Borrring.

  I watched as Bill swooped out to the driveway, Rachel trailing not quite so fast. The wind howled, Rachel’s hair whipped wildly around her face, and she looked like she was freezing to death. The more I looked out at the cold, gray, windy afternoon, the less I felt like taking my walk. But I put on my jacket, gloves, and earmuffs and headed to the front door just as I heard the rumble of the garage door closing. I met Rachel and Bill on the front step.

  “Great news, Liz.” Bill rubbed his hands together briskly as Rachel shot past both of us and went directly to the radiator to thaw out. “We’re eating dinner with Mrs. Parks tonight. We can hear all about Chicago.”

  Well, la di da. Without a word, I headed outside and into the brisk wind. I had a feeling it would take more than a walk to prepare for a command performance with Mrs. Parks.

  It might take some tequila.

  By Sunday evening, I still hadn’t met Mrs. Parks, since she’d been taking a nap when I got home from my walk, probably exhausted from all that wild shopping in Chicago. Rachel told me that she and Bill usually ate in the alcove off the kitchen, not with Mrs. Parks, but it didn’t explain why Bill was practically bouncing when we ran into him at the foot of the main stairs. The guy was nuts.

  His nose wrinkled as he looked at me. “Is that what you’re wearing to dinner?”

  Wasn’t this the guy who thought leather vests were still in? Who looked like Greg Brady when he dressed up?

  Irritated, I squared my shoulders. In honor of the evening, I left my Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt in my duffle and wore a basic yellow sweater I’d borrowed from Jane. I paired it with jeans, but they were clean and free of holes. And I’d packed for Fargo, after all, not Paris.

  I brushed past Bill and headed into the living room, where Mrs. Parks and a spindly little creature awaited us. I blinked, recognizing her as the girl behind the wheel of the Rolls today. She couldn’t be a day over twelve.

  Mrs. Parks lifted a whisper-thin eyebrow. “You must be Elizabeth Bennet.”

  I looked from Mrs. Parks to the girl, who didn’t utter a peep. They both had the sort of long face that makes you think a whinny might come out of it. Mrs. Parks seemed cold and haughty and rude, and the girl—who must be Veronica, the little power shopper—looked like she was sitting on nails. Poor kid. She had to be terrified of her mom.

  From the looks of Mrs. Parks, I couldn’t blame her.

  Bill started bouncing around the room, calling a play-by-play of each stick of furniture, most of which would probably break if he sat on it. “Liz, check out the view!”

  I trudged over to the bay window, trying to imagine a view of Fargo in March worth my time.

  Mrs. Parks sniffed. “My lawn and garden look much better in the summer.”

  I wasn’t coming back here in the summer unless Rachel was on her deathbed, and even then I’d be willing to pay to airlift her back to Minnesota.

  Bill’s chest puffed out, almost as far as his gut. “And this summer it’ll look even better. I don’t know if Rachel told you—”

  I slid a glance at Rachel, who stared at the ceiling.

  “—but Mrs. Parks hired me as her environmental engineer.”

  As in, lawn boy and snow shoveler? This was better than yoga? Rachel’s neck practically snapped off as she craned her head skyward, but I just shrugged. At least she was a nanny, which was a decent job if the kid wasn’t a total brat, and Wild Bill wasn’t her issue. I hoped.

  Dinner arrived, offering a temporary cease-fire to my pity of Rachel. I sure didn’t eat like this at my house. Lamb and little red potatoes and asparagus, with peach cobbler for dessert. The only negative was that Bill kept talking with his mouth full, and his exuberant descriptions of every morsel he ate kept dislodging those very same morsels.

  The minute dinner ended, Mrs. Parks led us back to the living room, where she looked down her hooked nose and started peppering me with questions.

  “What are you studying in school, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth? For a moment I thought I was in trouble, since that’s the only time anyone called me that. “I go by Liz, and I’m going to major in biomedical engineering.”

  She looked puzzled. “Oh?”

  “Sure.” I’d actually decided on it early in high school, back when I’d worshipped Dad and wanted to do whatever he did—pretty stupid, I know, since he left engineering for a yoga mat—but I didn’t feel like explaining it to Mrs. Parks. “It’s a great way to meet geeky guys.”

  She muttered something like “impudent” under her breath, except that it came out pretty loud. I just smiled brightly, but Bill choked, even though the guys in my classes were a lot less geeky than him.

  I turned back to Mrs. Parks, who fixed me with a beady-eyed stare. “But enough about me. I thought we were going to hear all about your big trip to Chicago.” I glanced from Mrs. Parks to Veronica, who didn’t utter a peep and had a death grip on the arms of her chair. “What’s the shopping like?”

  It turns out that no one asks Mrs. Parks the questions, Rachel told me when we went back upstairs, but how would I know? Two minutes later, we were ushered out of the living room and dismissed for the night.

  I could only see it as a Good Thing.

  The weather finally improved a bit. The sun poked through the clouds, temperatures rocketed into the forties, and snow started melting in earnest. Fargo still sucked, but now I could take long walks without having to worry about being found days later, frozen to death in a snow drift.

  The walks were crucial, since the stress of dealing with Wild Bill and Mrs. Parks sent me to bed most nights half crazed. Rachel seemed to work a hundred hours a week, in violation of every possible labor law, so I barely saw her. The more I understood the situation, the more my stomach churned. We also never again saw anything like lamb. After that first night, we choked down hot
dogs, Spam, and Spaghetti-O’s while Mrs. Parks and Veronica gnawed on filet mignon.

  On Thursday, Mrs. Parks gave Rachel the night off. Finally! I couldn’t wait for a night out with Rachel, and a burger at McDonald’s would easily top anything I’d eaten in several days. While I was waiting for Rachel to change into jeans, I hung out in the kitchen, a mug of hot chocolate cupped in my cold hands. Unfortunately for me, Mrs. Parks walked in.

  Without so much as a “hi,” she mentioned that the next day was Good Friday—duh—and asked if I planned to go to church.

  A big gulp of hot chocolate scalded my throat. “Uh, no.”

  She made a “tsking” sound and shook her head. “Young people these days. Unfortunately, however, I find myself in the same predicament. Unable to attend church.”

  I didn’t exactly consider skipping church a predicament, but I nodded.

  She cleared her throat. “My darling boys are finally coming to visit. For Easter weekend.”

  I frowned, pretty sure she just had one kid: Veronica, the horse-faced runt. “Your boys?”

  She gave a girlish little giggle that sounded idiotic coming out of Mrs. Parks. “Oh, I suppose I shouldn’t call them my boys.” She leaned closer to me, whispering, like we were sharing some big secret. Not. “But they’re my two favorite young men in all the world.”

  I nodded absently as my stomach growled.

  She ignored the growl and took my nod as encouragement. “My best friend in college and I were like sisters. When we had children, I thought of her boy as my nephew and she thought of Veronica as her niece.”

  I tried to stifle a yawn.

  Mrs. Parks’s eyes got a bit misty. “She also had a sweet nephew—her sister’s son—and the boys have become fine young men. When my friend died, I promised to keep an eye on them.”

  My eyes glazed over as her voice kept droning on, but then I heard the words “Connecticut” and “Alex Darcy.”

  Oh. God.

  Even though she’d already said her “boys” weren’t arriving until tomorrow, my skin crawled, and my plans for leaving on Sunday changed. I had to escape. Now. No, yesterday!

  Chapter 13

  “I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which are not in fact your own.”

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Eight

  Rachel returned to the kitchen just as Mrs. Parks mentioned Alex, and my stunned gaze flickered between Mrs. Parks and Rachel as I wondered how I’d tell Rachel I was leaving—ASAP!—and whether I could drive all the way back to Woodbury by myself in the dark.

  Mrs. Parks peered at me over the tops of her half-glasses. “Elizabeth? You don’t look very well.”

  “Yeah? That’s because I—” Dang. I couldn’t think of a quick excuse. I must be slipping.

  Rachel piped up. “Alex? I think we met him this fall, Mrs. Parks. In Woodbury?” Mrs. Parks frowned, which I took as a yes. “It’ll, um, be great to see him again.”

  She didn’t know about Jane’s latest Charlie issues, since I couldn’t risk blabbing about Jane’s newly-lost virginity and way-too-possible pregnancy and the fact that Charlie had turned into a total asshat. It was Jane’s secret. Besides, Rachel had kept so many secrets from me in the last few months that I wasn’t totally sure of her anymore.

  “Yes. Well.” Mrs. Parks sniffed. No more Mrs. Giggles. “Alex and his cousin, Patrick, arrive tomorrow. Patrick is just back from Afghanistan, so I can’t imagine you’ve met him.”

  I quickly shook my head. “Alex’s cousin is a soldier?”

  A proud nod. “A lieutenant in the army. Or marines. I can never keep them straight.”

  “That seems...unusual for a cousin of Alex. I mean, Alex doesn’t seem like the type—”

  “Patrick wanted to serve his country. I’m quite proud of him. I’m proud of both my boys.”

  I gulped the dregs of my hot chocolate, which had long since grown cold, eager to get away before Mrs. Parks decided to skewer me with a cocktail fork.

  She sniffed again. “I suppose you’ll want to catch up with Alex while he’s here visiting me.”

  “Gee, I wish I could, but—” I waved a hand in the air, unable to tell Mrs. Parks I was leaving the first chance I got when I hadn’t even told Rachel yet. “Alex and I aren’t exactly what you’d call close.”

  “Hi, Liz.”

  I whirled. Alex stood in the doorway behind me. Another guy, also in his early twenties but with super-short hair and not looking a bit like Alex, slouched against the wall, chuckling. I cringed, wondering just how much they’d heard.

  From the annoyed look on Alex’s face, everything.

  “You’re Liz?” The guy with Alex stepped forward and extended his hand. “Patrick Williams. And you’re not eager to see Alex? Can’t blame you.”

  Alex followed him to our little circle, where they both gave Mrs. Parks a dutiful peck on the cheek. Alex introduced Patrick to Wild Bill and Rachel but didn’t look at me.

  “You’re here early, boys.” Mrs. Parks fluttered and simpered, so unlike her usual frigid behavior that it made my head spin. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

  Alex quickly blamed Patrick for the sneak attack, but Patrick chuckled. “Alex thought it was rude to arrive early, but I knew you’d love a good joke, Olivia.”

  Mrs. Parks looked like she was about to give Patrick a smack, but her lips twitched. “I see you’re still incorrigible. Didn’t that change in your time in Afghanistan?”

  A dark look flashed across his face before he pulled a mask over it. “They gave it their best shot, but they didn’t beat quite everything out of me.”

  He sliced a hard glance at Alex, then forced a laugh. After a few awkward moments, Patrick proceeded to chat everyone up, steering clear of Mrs. Parks but in such a charming fashion that she didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

  Interesting.

  When Mrs. Parks left to find Veronica and Patrick started telling Rachel and Bill another joke, I turned to Alex. “It’s been a while. I guess you’ve been in New York?”

  He shrugged. “I live in Connecticut but spend a lot of time in the city.”

  “With Charlie and Stephanie?”

  The others turned to stare at Alex, who started to fidget. “I do a lot of work for Charlie’s company.”

  I took a deep breath for courage, but I should’ve wished for brains instead. “Jane was in New York after Christmas, and she’s there this week. Have you run into her?”

  “No.”

  Just that. No. Maybe he hadn’t, of course, but he had to know that Charlie and Jane hooked up—in a big way—since he and Charlie were such close buds. I just couldn’t read anything in Alex’s face. No I-told-you-she-was-a-stalker or even a sideways grin at Charlie’s conquest.

  Same old Alex. Unreadable in the extreme.

  Patrick ordered three large pizzas before Rachel and I could sneak out to McDonald’s and before I could tell Rachel I really had to leave. An hour and a half later, I was stuffed with pizza and didn’t feel like driving all the way home tonight.

  But I did tell Rachel my plan.

  “You’re kidding.” Sitting on the edge of her bed later that evening, her back ramrod straight, Rachel started moaning. I hoped it wasn’t the pizza, since I’d wolfed down a bazillion slices of it, even with Patrick and Alex in the same room. “You promised you’d stay until Sunday.”

  “I never promised.” Luckily. I glanced around Rachel’s tiny room and wondered what she did most evenings when she got off duty with Veronica. Sit up here? By herself? “And you can always come back to Woodbury.”

  She just shook her head.

  “Hey, you could stay in our guest room.” Okay, I’d always compared it to Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs, but it had a twin bed and wasn’t any smaller than this room. And it wasn’t in Fargo. “Mom and Dad would be happy to have you.”

  Rachel moaned again.
“Right.”

  “Dad would, at least. You spend a lot less money than the rest of us do.” I grinned, but Rachel stared at the wall.

  “Please, Liz? Stay ’til Sunday?”

  I frowned. “I told you. I don’t want to spend the next few days this close to Alex. I might strangle him, and whose fault would it be? Yours.”

  “I’ll take that chance.”

  Rolling my eyes, I sighed. Jane wouldn’t get home from New York until Sunday, and I’d be stuck with my bratty younger sisters. Besides, Patrick was kinda cute. I could flirt with him and ignore Alex.

  If that didn’t work out, I could still leave. No matter how much Rachel begged.

  After spending Friday morning studying and avoiding Alex, I grabbed a quick bite to eat—alone—in the kitchen, then set off on my daily walk. I discovered a huge park a few blocks away on my third day in Fargo and had gone back every day since. Snow still covered the ground in patches, but the walking paths were clear, and I felt like I could walk forever.

  As I basked in the unusually warm sunshine, I thought about Rachel. When we actually spent time alone, it was almost like old times. Okay, except for the fact that one topic of conversation—Wild Bill—was off limits. Two, if I counted Mrs. Parks. Three, if I counted Fargo.

  Fine. A lot was off limits. Still, little by little, I felt like I was getting my friend back. The next step was to get her back in Woodbury.

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t see Patrick until he stopped right in front of me.

  “Hey! Just the person I wanted to see.”

  “Really?” I’d seen hardly anyone in the park and hadn’t told Rachel or anyone else where I’d been walking. Besides, I just met Patrick yesterday. “Why?”

  He laughed, head back, full-throttle. “Because I’m stuck here for a few days and you’re the most normal person I’ve ever seen within a hundred miles of Fargo.”

  “If you go another couple hundred miles, you’ll hit the Twin Cities. Lots of normal people there.” I winked. “Just a tip.”